Helena fidgeted with a buckle of her backpack. Her three knocks echoed in the silence of the cool, dark night. With the professor's porchlight out, her suburban home was blanketed in a thick, dense gloom.

The porch was barren except for an old swinging bench and a push mower. Nothing to distract her. All Helena had to fixate on was her own racing heart, her humming nerves.

Fuck.

Was this real? This felt like something out of a noir. Like the sort of story Diane—Professor Wood—would share with the class to critique, wittily taking apart every inaccuracy, every misconception about how policework actually operated.

In most of those stories, this would be the opening scene. The scene where the idiot witness got murdered.

She swallowed, or tried to. Her mouth was dry. Why wasn't Di—Professor Wood answering? Helena knew she was home. Her car was in the driveway, and more importantly, so was her bike—Helena recognized the teal color and wicker basket. Professor Wood always said she liked to stay home Friday nights to take things easy and unwind from the week.

Helena hesitated, then reached up to knock again.

At that moment, she heard the latch click. Her hand froze, and her heart started to thud and pound in her chest like a drummer trying to escape.

This is fine, she told herself. You’re here to confront her. You have all the cards. You have a plan. This is what you're in school for.

The door opened, and Professor Diane Wood blinked down at her.

"Helena?"

Helena’s breath caught. Her words hid from her for a moment, then spilled out from her lips in a torrent. "Professor Wood! You—I was hoping I'd find you here, I—only, I need to talk to you, you see, on a matter of uttermost—I mean, utmost importance—" Her entire prepared speech melted into nothing as she stared up at the woman she had come here to destroy.

Diane's appearance made a shocking contrast to the other CJ professors, especially right now. A woman in her mid-thirties, Diane was currently dressed in little but a pale nightgown and, just-visible beneath its diaphanous fabric, lacy, flirtatious lingerie. Her long dark red hair spilled just past her shoulders in luscious arcing waves. She always wore makeup to class—not much, just a pretty hue of wine-red lipstick—but wasn’t wearing it now. Her eyes were a piercing crystal-blue. She towered over Helena, though with Helena at just over five feet, this wasn’t saying much.

Diane's head tilted down at Helena. Her lips quirked upwards. "Slow down, Helena. One word at a time."

Helena felt her cheeks heating up. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It was okay. She knew exactly what she was here for, and she wasn't the one who needed to be nervous. Not even a little bit. "May I come inside?" she asked, making her voice cold.

Diane raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sure. What's up?"

She made way for Helena to enter. Her living room was toasty and warm, and Helena shivered reflexively.

"Can I take your coat?" Dia—Professor Wood asked, reaching for Helena's arm.

Helena jerked away. "I-I think, if anything, you should be a little more discrete with your students right now, Professor Wood."

She noticed Professor Wood's little flinch, hard as she clearly tried to hide it. Well, I just meant to show courtesy to my favorite TA. But you're right, I..." She trailed off. "What's this all about?"

Helena bit her lip. She made her way to the coffee table and thought about sitting, but thought better of it. Better to make this quick. "I looked into Laramie."

Professor Wood, who had been following her, froze in place. She stared at Helena, then looked around, as if counting the windows. "Oh? Thinking about vacationing there, Helena? It's a lovely town."

"Yes, and the safest city in Wyoming thanks to you, isn't that right?" Helena felt emboldened by Diane's nerves. "You know, it’s funny. You're always talking about your service there; I thought I'd look into it. Only the weird thing is, nobody there seems to actually remember a Diane Wood on the force."

Diane smiled thinly. "As I said on my first day, that was before my divorce. I went by a different name back then."

"Yeah. Yes. I know." Helena rolled her eyes. "I do listen, Professor Wood. I listen to a lot. But, you know, I did take the liberty of looking up every retired officer from there with the first name of Diane." She paused for dramatic effect. "I found one."

"Well, there you go." Diane laughed, shaking her head slightly. "Did you come all this way just to—"

"I found one, only… the funny thing is, Di—Professor Wood, there’s a picture.”

Professor Wood’s face was bland and emotionless. “Oh?”

“Yes. In the newspaper. There was an officer reunion last year. Officer Diane Tailor, very exceptional for her ten years of service on the force, was in attendance." Helena arched her eyebrows, savoring the growing fear in her Professor's face. This woman deserved every ounce of that fear, for how she'd been lying to her—to all of them—for the last three years. “And you know what? She’s your spitting image.”

Professor Wood didn’t laugh this time.

Helena reached into her bags, heart racing, and fumbled until she drew out a crumpled print-out of a newspaper scan. The picture depicted a crowd of men and women in police uniforms, and there, at the edge, a beautiful woman in her early thirties with crimson hair and brilliant blue eyes.

The woman also had a pixie cut. “This was a year ago.” She reached forward daringly to touch Diane's hair. Diane didn't flinch as her fingers ran through the long silken strands. "Your hair… grew kind of fast, didn’t it?”

“Helena.” Diane let out a sigh. “That’s a very blurry image.”

“This isn’t you.”

“That’s not—

"I know because I took a few sick days to pay a visit to Laramie,” Helena snapped. “To talk to her, Professor. About her service. About her dropout sister.” Her voice rose in anger. “I know."

Diane's face had gone pale. She stared at Helena, then down at the picture. "This… this isn’t what it…”

"I know about your ‘extracurriculars’ with Mark and Susan, too," Helena snapped. "I know Body Language 411 is just your way of scouting students you want to—to sleep with. You’ve never had anything prepared for any of those lectures and you never grade us on anything, but somehow you're always helping students with extra credit projects? Did you think someone wouldn’t do the math?"

"I think you should—"

"I'm not stupid, Diane!"

Helena only realized she was shouting when her voice broke on the last word. Diane flinched, eyes widening.

Helena relished that. This woman was going to listen, damn it. No more getting passed over. No more being ignored. Now it was going to come out, Diane was going to be afraid of her, and Helena was going to savor every second of it. "Do you know how serious this is?" she hissed, taking a step closer. "Do you know how much trouble you're going to be in when they find out how you forged that degree?"

Diane licked her lips.

"Falsifying qualifications. Sleeping with students. Mark's what, nineteen?"

"Twenty," Diane said quietly. "I..."

"That's quite an age gap, isn't it? " It was only a year younger than Diane, but that didn't seem important right now. "And I can't prove those acts, but I'll bet one of them will come forward when it comes out that you’re a fraud."

"Oh, I... disagree with that."

"It doesn't matter." Helena grinned viciously, leaning in close. "You're finished at this college, Professor Wood. Sorry, but you're being taken off the case. You're done."

"Perhaps we can." Diane sucked in a shallow breath. "We can make an arrangement, Helena. Can't we?" She smiled at Helena. "I know college loans must be—"

"Oh, shut it!" Helena's fist clenched. "Do you think that's going to work on me? That kind of corrupt blackmailing shit? I'm training to be a cop, Diane!"

There was a short silence.

"Well, that's why I thought it might," Diane said quietly. She fidgeted with the pockets of her nightgown, looking desperately uneasy.

Helena took a step forward, feeling as though the whole world were on fire and it could burn everything but her. "Do you—do you realize how much trouble you'll be in when I go to the Dean?"

Helena's words hung in the air a moment, like drifting dandelion seeds in a windless night. Diane was staring at the floor, eyes slightly glazed, visibly trembling.

Diane blinked.

Slowly, the professor’s expression shifted to one cool and neutral. Nearly blank, with a trace of something too subtle to name. Helena couldn't read it. Body language analysis was a pseudoscience, after all.

Diane raised her head, regarding Helena with that strange expression. "But you didn't go to the Dean." Her head tilted to the side.

"I'm just about to. Or—Or maybe straight to campus security." Helena turned up her nose, a somewhat less effective gesture thanks to the height difference. “I’m sure somewhere in all this you’ve broken a law. Maybe I’ll go to them.”

Diane’s expression didn’t change. She tilted her head to the other side, as if trying to examine Helena from all angles. "But you didn't go to campus security, either. You came to me."

"I just—I wanted to give you a chance to—"

Diane cut her off, talking over her. "To what? Apologize? To promise I won't ever do it again? Helena, why would you ever come to me in person?"

"I… I wanted you to know who got you." Helena crossed her arms. "And I wanted to see how you reacted."

"Oh, I'll bet."

"What the f—the hell does that mean?"

Diane turned away from her and walked in slow, calm strides to the crackling fireplace. She adjusted a couple of tchotchke on the mantle. "Question, Helena. Do you know what makes people obey the law?"

"What?"

"Just answer. What makes people obey the law?"

Helena hesitated. "Well, there's ... there's the legal threat, and the social threat. Formal social control and informal social control."

"Which is more effective?"

"Informal social control, usually. It depends. People mostly obey the law because people who break the law are socially shunned. It's why nobody cared about violating Prohibition, and it’s why why most people aren’t just gonna go around stealing and murdering even without police around."

"Very good." Diane gave her a little smile. "So what makes someone go to the police?"

"I..." Why was Diane asking all these questions? Where was she going with this?

No, wait, better question: Why was Helena bothering to answer?

"I know a student as keen as you knows this one, Helena."

Helena felt her cheeks redden. "Someone goes to the police because there's... a value instilled in them, basically. They reflexively, subconsciously trust the police to solve the problem. They may have loves ones who value the police, or they themselves might... value the police. It's not about the law itself, usually. It's about social pressures and... instilled reflexes."

"Very good!" Diane smiled at her. "I knew there was a reason I leaned on you so much as my main T.A."

Main T.A. Helena suppressed a rush of stupid, irrational pride. "Well, anyways—"

"You're exactly right," Diane said, raising her voice to again talk over Helena. "It’s often because someone in that person's life instilled a social value of trusting authority. Trusting the police, trusting a mentor... it's like reflex. I like that wording!" She kept smiling at Helenna, that warm, approving smile. Like Helena had answered a question right in class. "So, you see, the police really have very little to do with justice at all. What matters isn't their guns, it's their badges. The perception of authority, and the fact that you were trained to obey authority. It’s just another form of informal control."

Helena felt her patience drying up fast. "Are you trying to talk me out of going to the authorities? God, you really are desperate."

Diane looked at her with raised eyebrows. Helena found herself unable to meet that calm, appraising gaze.

"Of course, some just care about the police themselves," Diane went on. "They really just want approval. They go to the police hoping for a pat on the head from their heroes, a smile, being told they've done well."

"Are you done yet?" Helena snapped. "Because I have places to be, and I think we've established the worthlessness of your lectures now."

"But you…”

Helena stiffened. Something in Diane’s tone had changed. Become softer. More… sultry, almost.

“... you come to the guilty party." The corner of Diane's mouth quirked upwards. "You come to me. That's a bit odd, isn't it?"

"I already told you why." Helena snorted. "What, was your actual major in psychology?"

"Never went to college, personally. Just a GED." Diane flicked her head at Helena's bag. "But I'm guessing you already knew that. You're really good at investigating, aren't you?"

Helena found herself fidgeting with her backpack straps.

"I bring up my career at Laramie just about every week. It’s such a brazen thing to lie about, nobody even considers it might not be true. I bring up my career the way a community college writing professor brags about the book he self-published. Do you know how many students actually bother to read those books, Helena?" Diane laughed. "I mean, more than a cursory glance? Our students are overworked as it is. Who's going to take the time to indulge a professor’s vanity?"

"I could tell something was up," Helena said stiffly.

Diane rubbed her chin, looking Helena up and down with a gaze that left Helena feeling naked. "No," she murmured, "no, that's not it."

Helena's mouth was dry. She shrugged and reached for her water bottle. "Believe what you like."

"I think you," Diane said coolly, "read up on my past career because you wanted to know more about me."

"Yes, because—"

"Because,” Diane went on, “you've always been a bit of a teacher's pet, haven't you?"

Helena half-choked on the water. She set the bottle down, wiping her mouth, and stared at Diane.

"You're such a good student." Diane smiled warmly. "Such a hardworking T.A. You practically taught this course—honestly, I've often thought you're more qualified to work at that university than some of the actual teachers." She brushed by Helena as she made her way to the kitchen, making Helena newly conscious of the sheerness of that nightgown. "Present company included, of course." She glanced back and winked.

Helena hurried after. "Are you trying to butter me up?"

"What? No, Helena." Diane glanced back at her with the look reserved for wrong answers in class. Helena bit her lip and ducked her head. "It's just a teacher's habit, I guess. A good student should be praised. But, see, the thing is..." She bent down and retrieved a bottle of fancy liqueur. She had a lot of bottles, and Helena wondered how much of the university's money had been spent on booze. "You've always seemed awfully eager to earn that praise from me in particular. And you came to me."

Helena's tongue fumbled in her mouth. "I—I didn't—"

"You came to me and showed me your work and waited like an eager little puppy for a gold star." Diane flashed her a dazzling smile as she retrieved two glasses from a cabinet. "Because someone instilled that reflex in you, didn't they?"

"Let me—"

"I instilled that reflex in you. Do you want my approval?" Diane's smile twisted into a smirk. "Do you want a smile and a pat on the head for a job well done?"

"Let me speak!" Helena burst out. Anger and indignation welled within her, along with emotions she point-blank refused to acknowledge. "You have some fucking nerve—"

"You're a little obsessed with me, aren't you?"

Helena's breath caught. She nearly choked. She stared at Diane, trying to will words from her mouth. But briefly, with her cheeks burning, she didn't know what to say. Diane's smile held her.

"Hm. Quiet all of a sudden~" Diane poured two drinks. "Strange. You're usually so talkative in class, so quick to raise your hand like an excited schoolgirl and practically beg with those pretty eyes for me to call on you. But now, all of a sudden... quiet." She looked up and met Helena's eyes. Her eyes were dazzling, piercing blue. Helena's heart fluttered. "Even though I asked you a question."

Helena managed to snap herself out of it. She clenched her fists, glaring at Di—at Professor Wood. "You're right about one thing. It was a mistake coming here. I'm... just disappointed in you, Professor Wood. That's all I really wanted to say."

She turned, trying to take a deep breath without making it obvious that was what she was doing.

Fuck. That. She hadn't expected that. Her heart was abuzz with nerves.

Even in defeat, Diane's charisma was... kind of terrifying. Her personality wasn’t magnetic, it was a lightning rod.

Everything she’d said, though… that was just bullshit, clearly. A cornered criminal grasping at straws.

Helena wasn’t obsessed. She wasn’t a teacher’s pet. She just did the work. She just had a healthy respect for the faculty. That was all. Diane was underestimating Helena if she thought Helena would just stand there and take that kind of gaslighting.

Helena made her way to the door with her her chin held high. She let the breath out in a deep sigh. "Goodbye, Professor."

She felt someone grab her wrist tightly.

“Wait.”

Helena’s toes curled. Her heart started to race.